Relentless Fire
by HayashiOkami
Summary: One cannot live fully without embracing suicide in crime…A pact made with relentless fire requires that, while some live, others die. A study on human nature and the madness that resides in everyone's hearts. Murder and its motives. Rewriting
1. Flights of Angels

This is my new story of which I am immensely proud of, _Relentless Fire_. It will be awesome and will contain dark themes. This is more than just a murder story, but one that contains a psychological inquiry upon the motives of murder, the madness of the human heart, and human nature. There are many lessons that can be picked from this story that vary in weight and frequency. The characters I hope, are real and flawed. If you do not agree with or have a problem of any sort with reading homosexuality, implied circumstantial incest, sexual child abuse, French phrases used in one scene which I will not translate for you, death, murder, Hamlet, and bishonen boys please do not read and flame. Obviously, if you do not agree with my story, keep it to yourself, as I am allowed to write about what I want. I often say "the fool-proof way to not have been eaten by Jaws is to _not go in the water_". Obviously I am trying to add some humor in there. Please note that none of these traits define the story- there are many themes represented.

I do welcome constructive criticism, as it helps writers grow. A complete list of references used in this chapter are located at the below the story.

_Disclaimer to hold you for the entire story:_ _I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians or the various other references I make in this story._

_**Relentless Fire**_

_**Chapter 1: **__Flights of Angels_

"_Now cracks a noble heart.—Good night, sweet prince, and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!_" (Horatio, Act 5, Scene 2 of Shakespeare's _Hamlet_)

The bonfire flickered weakly in the deep morning mist and its warm golden glow permeated the fog, but could not dispel the chill. A grey swathed sky covered dawn's rosy fingers and shed little light upon the Long Island forest. The camp remained dry as always, but a fine mist showered the outside world. Bushels of strawberries and little white and purple flowers were stacked against a golden brown and black pot that sat next to the bonfire. Soft murmurs from sympathetic campers filled the silence. They gave the children of Athena room to show their grief before their half sibling who they had just seen burn in the funeral pyre.

The war against the titans was done and they pulled away with many losses. Though friends died before it did not make the process any easier in the times thereafter. Fifteen year old Shannon Ingram's death hurt more because she was murdered by a fellow camper and those who survived the war considered themselves comrades in arms. The thought of more betrayal after the war was unbelievable and unreal.

"May she rest in peace…" whispered one among the Athena ranks, their de facto counselor due to her seniority over her half siblings. Annabeth Chase collected the pot and flowers and started towards the Big House where she would prepare the ashes to be sent to Shannon's family. When the mist covered her form the campers broke into nervous talk and the bonfire died. They could only begin to accuse each other of the horrible act out of fear and anger.

"We'll find who killed Shannon," said Percy Jackson, who stood waiting for Annabeth to return. Percy was as unnerved as the other campers, but he kept his composure for the most part. It was impossible to be completely calm during such a crisis. Percy knew they needed a plan to protect the campers and catch the murderer before they decided to kill again. Undoubtedly Annabeth was formulating one and perhaps she would talk to Chiron while she was at the Big House as well. "Where was she found, again?"

"In the forest by the Mess Hall," said a boy from the Athena cabin, who spoke with a light, rich French accent that couldn't conceal the hurt in his voice. Percy recalled that his name was Justin and that he didn't pronounce it the normal English way, although the campers all called him by the English pronunciation anyways. He couldn't remember his last name, which was French and hard to say. Justin didn't speak much English, but he was the only one of the Athena cabin who was in the slightest mood to talk. "She was under leaves."

"You didn't happen to see anyone there, did you?" Percy had to bring justice to this girl. Judging by the multiple wounds she put up a struggle before the fatal blow was delivered to her heart. There might have been two killers, one to keep her quiet, since no one had heard her murder despite the relative quiet towards the end of dinner when she was found. At least, that was what Annabeth told him while they prepared the funeral pyre. "Make that two someone's."

"I did not find her." Justin shook his head and motioned towards a boy and girl from the Athena cabin. The girl was Lucy and the boy Mark, and Percy recalled that they were new additions to the camp. They clearly looked frightened as they huddled together, grey eyes skittish and wide like a deer's. Discovering the dead body of a fellow camper, let alone a sibling, would have shocked most (except Clarisse maybe, Percy thought), but new campers especially, who weren't yet used to the turbulence of a half-blood's life.

"W-we didn't see anyone," said Mark, teeth chattering as if he were cold. Percy spotted Annabeth approach out of the corner of his eye and motioned for her to come. "We didn't s-see her at first either. She had a-a bright pink scarf though. We were just going to walk through the forest to the cabins because we were told that it was a nice view. I didn't expect…"

"Well…Justin, you weren't there during dinner, were you? At least, you disappeared for a bit," Annabeth said after she'd been informed of the situation. She was grimfaced and pounded Lucy and Mark with questions, none of which seemed to help. One of the Dionysus kids told her in a trembling voice that their brother Richard hadn't been around either. The other cabins were silent.

Percy couldn't understand how anyone could do this. He couldn't see anyone from camp ever having the hatred to kill a fellow camper. Maybe it was a monster, but that was unlikely as the body was covered when it was found and Percy might not have been a genius like Annabeth but he knew monsters didn't bury the dead. Maybe some weird cat-thing might, but under a pile of dirt, not carefully placed leaves, almost like a blanket.

"I'm sick," Justin answered. Percy couldn't distinguish any emotion in his voice, but he did sound a little worse for wear, as if he were drained of energy. That might just be due to the shock of the murder though. From the far side of the bonfire came Richard Abel, who walked to his friend's side protectively and glared. The gesture was a sure sign to Annabeth. Percy shuddered, since it looked like his girlfriend was moving in on the kill. "I was sick in France with the flu. I still have it."

"He has a fever and he was puking. You want to go find it? The food is undigested, so you can tell sorts of gross stuff he ate," Richard almost spat. He stepped in front of Justin and his friend shrank back as if he were embarrassed. Percy considered the fact that he might have to vomit again, but he tried to think happy thoughts, if that were possible in this situation. Richard stopped bristling and his voice softened. "I was just helping him. He's my friend after all. I want to help my friend after he's been puking caviar and cheese and whatever other nasty stuff he ate in France. Mind you, that was probably just food poisoning from some order of snails and not the flu."

"Ew, I don't need that mental image," Percy grimaced. It was Justin's turn to glare at his friend and Annabeth looked pissed at Percy's childish behavior in the middle of a murder. He grinned sheepishly as if saying, _I can't help it, you know me_. Something had to lighten the mood after all, since even the weather was depressing let alone the campers. No one laughed, no one made much more sound than a shuffle against the ground and the occasional sniffle. The bonfire stopped crackling and even the wind ceased to blow. A damp humidity cloaked the air.

"I do not always eat that food," Justin said, rather annoyed while he glared at his taller friend. He quite disliked the stereotypes Americans had of the French, even if he was a little biased himself. So far few disproved his theories that Americans were arrogant, materialistic, and simple. Dyslexia and ADHD were not valid reasons to not be worldly in his book, since he overcame his disabilities and was better for it. "I have not killed anyone either."

Percy thought Justin had the sort of innocent expression one would find on a kitten who _might _have chewed your shoelace but all signs went to the puppy who looked guilty anyways. Percy didn't know much about the French boy, only that he was well educated and could actually stand to read a novel that wasn't in Ancient Greek. Sometimes Annabeth saw the boy hurt himself, but that was probably only to keep himself concentrated, she said. Percy could never do something like that. He shivered at the thought of reading such a big book and understanding the context.

Justin and his friend Richard, who always wore this mischievous face whether or not he was in trouble, weren't the only suspicious campers. Percy and Annabeth were ruled out immediately, because they saved the camp so many times it was impossible for them to murder others. They'd shown compassion for their enemy, too, despite all the evils he'd committed. The rest of the Athena cabin (save Justin, he still had that kitten look after all) were cleared. They grieved in such a sincere manner that it was almost impossible to accuse them. Percy thought that the Ares campers might be behind this, as they showed the least compassion and sorrow. Shortly after they made a list of who was certainly cleared and who was still a suspect it was time to sleep, though Percy knew that hardly any campers would rest easily tonight, except the murderers.

Annabeth ran through all the possibilities she could imagine, every situation and plan the murderers might have came up with to kill Shannon. She thought of the motives and how they executed the plan, but came up cold. Criminology was not her forte, especially thinking like a criminal. She was sure that she could solve this case before anyone died though, as they did have a number of suspects who were kept under a tight watch. Justin Lévesque of her own cabin slept with a rope twined around his foot, something Malcolm thought of to keep him out of trouble. That way, they'd know if he were to rise out of bed and try to untie it. Justin wasn't stupid and Annabeth really didn't know anything other than the fact that his sick story held true when he vomited again.

Among the people to fall sleep that night Annabeth wasn't included. Sometime around three in the morning (she took a wild guess), she saw Justin flail and toss the sheets off his body, crying out and muttering words in French. The campers around him untied the rope on his ankle, getting kicked in the process, and frantically tried to wake him. Annabeth scurried over with a pen and paper with a prayer that she would be able to catch the words and write them. It wasn't as if she was out to get her half sibling, but she needed to rule everyone out of suspicion. The job was harder than she expected.

"_Je ne veux pas! __Veuillez ne pas me faire. __Ne me laissez pas!_" Justin whimpered and curled into the blankets. He shivered and sobbed but Annabeth couldn't make out the rapid French he spoke. She did catch a name right before he started awake in a cold sweat with their half siblings crowded around his bed. He whispered desperately, "_Richard_."

"You had a nightmare," Annabeth said when he'd woken confused and disoriented. The Athena campers gave him strange looks and he seemed too spooked to talk. Annabeth put the paper and pen down, unused. "What were you having a nightmare about? You mentioned Richard. What happened?"

"I…" Justin bit his lip and had a pained look about him. Maybe he knew he was under suspicion. Maybe he just couldn't articulate and tell them what he'd dreamed about, even if he wanted to. Annabeth just wished that it was one of the Ares campers who killed Shannon, bloodthirsty as they were. Justin was too frail to do something like that. It crossed her mind that perhaps Richard had coerced him into the act, if they were at fault, but she still couldn't see it. The Dionysus kids were carefree and partiers but she didn't think that they couldn't kill in cold blood. "Don't want him…to leave me. I don't want to…"

"Don't want to what? You didn't _kill_ Shannon did you? You're family, so _why would you do _that? Why would you act like…like this! Tell me the truth, now!" Annabeth inched closer and grabbed the French boy's shoulders. She shook him in desperation and hope. He flinched and shook his head, hair obscuring his face. He shivered under her grip and tore himself away from her.

"I didn't kill Shannon. I…I don't want to fight my brothers, for the title of our family." Justin collapsed against the bed and panted, eyes staring somewhere else. Seven years ago, he explained, his father declared that among his three sons the one who won the most competitions would inherit leadership of the family. He never wanted to participate, but they didn't have much of a choice and he respected his father's wishes. Last year the competitions became intense and his brothers fought harshly, which still scared him to this day.

"You don't…understand my family," he said. His eyes were pained and he clenched his fists. "You cannot understand that I cannot forget my family, no matter the circumstances. To want to forget about the past does not make it leave. I cannot forget about them. I care about them. My brother Prosper broke his arm and I cried.

"Obligations are important to us…and Richard is the only person here who would…" Here he paused, searching for the right words. "He would keep those obligations. It is not that I do not care for you all…but…I live different and you cannot accuse me because I act a little different from you. I'm sorry she died, I really am, but she was not as close to me as she was to you."

Annabeth believed him after that. He was so shaken up that she couldn't have thought otherwise. That didn't mean she understood his concept of friends and family any better but she did accept them. None of that conflict did much to help the murder though. A week of intense, fretful training followed in which everyone was on their guards and no one trusted anyone. The free sessions were filled with more leisurely activities. It seemed that they were to afraid to let the campers train too much, because while everyone was strengthening to defend themselves, the murderers were growing stronger as well. The balance rested on a pinhead and before long a grain of sand landed on the board.

That grain of sand was Marcus O'Neal, a sixteen year old boy from the Hephaestus cabin. The act was almost deemed an accident and would have been classified so if Shannon hadn't died a week ago and if the conditions of his death were actually a mistake. While he worked in the forges pounding away at a bronze shield something happened- what, no one knew. A large explosion destroyed the forges along with Marcus and any evidence that might have been present. It ignited an intense fire that lit the forest aflame, sparks bursting in the air. Percy was forced to disturb the nearby water into dousing the inferno. In the frenzied aftermath a Demeter kid noticed specks of white dust that covered the camp. She inspected it for a time and concluded that it was flour, the kind the kitchens used. So many ingredients were used per day so no one could tell who had stolen it or when since the campers took turns on kitchen duty.

Archery practice the next day was a slow process in which no one really gave it their all, except the Ares campers. Most arrows fell limp a few feet away and weren't picked up again. The Apollo kids, as naturals, never missed their targets, though they did not fire with such gusto anymore. Percy could barely string his bow and align the arrows, let alone fire it correctly. After the tenth try he sighed in frustration and turned to Annabeth, who was clearly buried in her own thoughts.

"Look, isn't there anyone who can help? Of course Mr. D refuses to help…but where's Chiron at a time like this? There must be something we can do, a quest, anything, would help. Maybe there's a prophecy," Percy said, on a rant and rolling off ideas he knew were stupid. Annabeth was smart but she didn't know everything. Even her mother Athena didn't know everything in the world. He didn't suppose any of the gods would help, after they'd already given so much to the war and granted their wishes afterwards.

"Percy, quests can't solve everything!" Annabeth shouted, angry and probably irrational. The tension ate away at everyone in the past few days. "Neither can prophecies and you know that. Look…I know this is really frustrating and we can't do _anything _but we have to protect everyone here, before we find out who did this. Chiron is…I don't know. He disappeared after Shannon died and told me that we had to solve this on our own. He had to do something for the gods I think, but I can't be certain."

There wasn't much they could say after that. They didn't know who would be next, because Shannon and Marcus had nothing in common. They never talked to each other and were from different states, ethnicities, everything. The only thing Annabeth could come up with was to question the Ares campers later that night around the bonfire, which she hoped could act as a lie detector of some sort. Ares and Athena never got along and neither did their children, so Annabeth could see some sense in that, but not the murder of Marcus. Ares kids did not have a grudge against the Hephaestus kids though their parents did. As Annabeth contemplated this she saw Justin approach out of the corner of her eye, Richard by his side, looking confused.

"Annabeth, I need to talk to you," Justin said softly, ignoring Richard's questions. It seemed that he wandered off in the middle of a conversation to tell her something. Annabeth nodded and waved Percy over to hear. "I know how the forges…exploded. If flour is cut very…fine, high quality, then it burns well. A high amount per square centimeter makes the flour combust like a bomb. In 1878 in the state Minnesota, at a flour mill a spark set the flour into exploding. It destroyed many buildings. They call it the Great Mill Disaster."

Annabeth was quiet for a moment, thinking that Justin knew too much before she said, "Is that so? How do you know? That was so long ago…does anyone even remember it these days?" Justin read a lot and Annabeth never asked him what he read in French, because he seemed so concentrated and set on understanding through his dyslexia she normally left him alone. That is, she left him alone if the book didn't have a picture of architecture on it.

"Yeah, where'd this come from?" Richard said, coming a mere two inches before Justin's face. His friend looked uncomfortable at the proximity and sidestepped him. "I've never heard of flour exploding."

"It was a project I had to research this year for history. It was mentioned in the news recently. I heard it on the plane. I thought that maybe it could help, just maybe." Justin finished and smiled weakly before he waved goodbye and left, Richard pestering him as they resumed their archery. Annabeth turned to Percy, pale and lost. They couldn't do anything, anything at all. Her knowledge didn't extend this far and they still didn't have any clues. Percy opened his mouth to suggest something, but Annabeth shot him down and told him that Justin was not responsible. She refused to give away her half sibling's nightmares the week before out of privacy.

When everyone took their seats at the bonfire Percy announced that they had to ask some questions. The Ares campers were outraged at first, before Annabeth solemnly mentioned that they needed to find Shannon and Marcus's killers before anyone else got hurt. They reluctantly consented and started the interrogation. Annabeth requested that everyone sit away from the bonfire so their emotions would have less an effect on it.

"None of you were missing at dinner, were you?" Percy started. He didn't really know where he was going with this, but he had to give it a try. He didn't trust the bonfire like Annabeth did, even if it represented the goddess Hestia. The Ares campers looked among each other and Clarisse nodded.

"Harold and George were out somewhere with a Demeter kid." Annabeth pressed for details and Clarisse admitted that they were trying to steal something, despite the fact that thievery was the Hermes cabin's specialty. Harold and George didn't seem happy that their counselor ratted them out, but Clarisse's glare silenced any arguments. Nothing about the bonfire changed. The next set of questions Annabeth asked.

"Have any of you read anything about how flour can act as a bomb?" Annabeth barely had time to finish her sentence before Clarisse shot her indignant answer in her face.

"What century did _this _happen? Are you just trying to frame us? That's it, isn't it?" Annabeth shook her head and quickly told them the story Justin told her, all the while wondering what to do now that the Ares campers were clearly free of suspect against Marcus, but not Shannon. Percy disappeared momentarily and came back with the Stoll brothers flanking him. They asked them the same questions, but Annabeth remembered seeing them at the crowded Hermes table a week ago, laughing boisterously at one of their newest pranks.

"Yeah, we've heard," they answered to the flour question. Percy looked smug and Annabeth figured that he supposed in the midst of their prank pulling that they'd heard of the explosion trick. "Nasty business it was, our mother had family who were caught up in it back in the eighteen hundreds. If you think _we_ did it though, that's a little silly. After all, we pull pranks, not murder people. It's on a completely different level."

Time ticked by and the sands of life and death were running out, along with the campers' emotions. People were easy to agitate now and the smallest comment set off even the calmest Demeter kids. The campers had hardly any contact with the satyrs. Grover stopped by and said that they feared for their own lives and wanted to stay out of the way until it passed. Percy was disappointed but could not be angry at his friend, because quite frankly he was scared too. The pattern was indistinguishable. That is, there was no pattern before a Pegasus was attacked one night and lost its eyesight.

The Pegasus's name was Zeru and it had a fiery chestnut coat that was smeared with blood. The panic it shirked almost overwhelmed Percy and he spent a good part of the day calming its nerves and tending to the wounds. Annabeth found a bow and a few stray arrows close by, one of which was smeared with blood. Percy tried to get the story out of the Pegasus, but he had a difficult time.

"Hey, calm down, please? What happened? Who attacked you?" The horse screeched and kicked the back of the stall. Percy flinched and chuckled nervously. "I need to know."

"_Smelled sweet,_" the Pegasus said, flailing its bandaged head. "_Had bad aim, came from the armory I think. It aimed for my eyes, but I dodged until it hit me in the wing._" At this, Zeru flexed the wing that had been covered in bandages as well. "_Then it got me in the eyes. I didn't hear it come and it didn't make a sound. It was being careful. It didn't want to kill me, I know, because the arrows only aimed for the eyes. If I had my eyesight I would have seen it when it ran away. It came back to do something too, but I already ran into the barn and I couldn't see what it was doing anyways._"

Percy had little time to process the Pegasus's story because Annabeth came storming in holding the bows and arrows, furious and ready to burst. She pulled over a bale of hay and shoved the blood stained arrow at the son of Poseidon. Percy jumped and chuckled nervously. "Annabeth, calm down, no need to throw around sharp objects."

"Look at it," she demanded. Percy sent her a questioning look but examined the bronze tip she pointed at. He was about to say that he couldn't see anything but she snapped at him and told him to look harder. Squinting he could catch the faintest trace of an etching in the bronze. At first he thought they were words and one name came to mind, but Annabeth slapped him upside the head and pointed at the outline of an owl. "Whoever the murderer is, they're trying to convince everyone that someone from Athena cabin did it. One of Athena's symbols is the owl. It couldn't have been an Apollo kid because they'd never waste that many arrows."

"Um…Annabeth, owls are supposed to have horns?" Percy wondered as he used a saddlecloth to wipe away the blood. The little engraving looked evil to him, with slanted eyes and pointed horns like the devil. Of course, he knew that Hades was most likely the embodiment of the devil, with a temper such as his. He waited to tell her about the Pegasus's story. It might be safer if he let her vent.

"Well, some owls do, why?" Percy pointed to the arrowhead and Annabeth frowned. He found this a good time to tell her about the attack, the sweet smell, the bad aim, and the return to tamper with the arrows. She was a bit ticked, but the new evidence had her brain churning already. "When were you going to tell me this? Never mind, you say a sweet smell? Ask the Pegasus if it smelled like grapes or strawberries."

"I don't know if it can tell the difference, Annabeth." His girlfriend gave him a look that said 'ask it anyways before I flay you alive' or, it would have said that if this were a lighter time, not in the middle of a murder. He turned to Zeru and asked him the question, but the horse seemed confused between a strawberry and grape. "Did it smell like…the fields nearby or something different?"

Zeru bowed his head for a moment and pondered the smell, which would have been comedic at a normal time. He finally concluded that it smelled different from the fields, so that ruled strawberries out, and that meant the Dionysus cabin was responsible. It did explain the arrows, because of course they'd want to blame some other cabin. Percy and Annabeth didn't know why it was an owl though. Of all the symbols of the cabins, they chose the owl.

Sometime later Annabeth came to the conclusion that they targeted a Pegasus because horses were connected to Poseidon. They were after Percy too and this was just the danger sign flashing before them, only they didn't know what made them send a warning instead of killing Percy outright. It might have to do with the fact that he was the son of Poseidon though and offspring of the Big Three were typically strong. Somehow, they aimed to pit Annabeth and Percy against each other by inciting that attack.

At the bonfire that night the Apollo campers were desperately trying to lighten the mood with songs of dance and cheer. One of them, a boy who came from a horrible background and Percy remembered was abused at some point in his life came a little too close for comfort trying to cheer him. Percy refused to get near him after that. Annabeth scolded him because the boy looked hurt and she had a soft spot for him, but she stopped abruptly and shouted.

"That's it! That's what I was missing all along," she chattered, facing Percy with her grey eyes alight. He could have sworn that the bonfire sparked because of her. "The owl might be Athena's symbol but one of her brother's symbols was an _eagle owl_. That brother is Ares! It wasn't Athena they were depicting."

"That's nice and all but…how do you know it's an eagle owl?" Percy wondered. Annabeth shook her head as if she were mad, but she was too excited at her discovery to swat him over the head of scold him again. "I mean…what do they look like? Owls don't have horns."

"Stupid, of course they don't have horns, but they _do _have these tuffs of hair that look like horns. Ever hear of the Great Horned Owl? They're from the same family. Also, Ares was said to have a chariot pulled by four immortal, fire-emitting stallions. The chestnut Pegasus is the closest color to flames."

"…Okay, congratulations, but this doesn't help us find the murder does it?" Percy pointed out slowly. Annabeth frowned, which she seemed to do a lot these days, and shook her head. She turned towards the fire slowly and sighed. Percy placed a hand on her shoulder and hugged her, but it didn't seem to help. The atmosphere was too harsh to break with words or actions.

"I wonder how many more are going to die before we can figure it out?"

Within the next few days they found out just how many lives it did take to figure the mystery out at least a little bit. The scales tipped when a good sized nugget of gold was dumped from midair upon the plank. The dustings of residue fell on the opposite end. Golden haired Crispin Young from the Apollo cabin didn't die. It was the first casualty that survived beside the Pegasus, though the gold seemed as manmade as the rest of the material that tipped the scales.

He was discovered at the amphitheater by his twin Damian, who looked exactly like him. The sight was eerie once Percy and Annabeth arrived. Crispin lay in his twin's arms, coughing blood and looking very pale. There was a bronze staff that protruded from his chest in a grotesque manner, which Damian seemed too scared to remove. Percy rushed forward and helped a kid from Apollo cabin pull the staff out while someone fetched some nectar and ambrosia from the Big House.

Will Solace, who Percy remembered as the person who'd helped to heal Annabeth during the war pushed him and the other kid aside when they removed the staff. He set to work on healing the twelve year old boy while Percy gently kept his twin from interfering, though he did receive blows, sobs, and a few Ancient Greek curses. A Demeter girl, fourteen or so and deathly pale handed Will the nectar and ambrosia and fled to vomit on the ground. Percy felt Damian shudder, cry, and turn into his chest to escape the sight of his brother's wounded body. Percy saw Annabeth pat the Demeter girl on the back and work her way to him, but Damian gripping his shirt distracted him. He smiled weakly, rubbed the boy's back, and offered words of comfort and promises that he knew he wouldn't be able to keep. Annabeth stood next to him, helpless.

Things were spiraling out of control. For one, Damian refused to leave his twin's side, which wasn't too bad except for the fact that Will ordered '_no visitors at all_' and he had really meant it. The second thing was that Damian chose Percy to cling to instead and he only shook the boy off when they had to sleep in different cabins and eat at different tables. That might have been the only time Percy was grateful that he slept alone in the Poseidon cabin. Annabeth was insanely jealous for a reason Percy couldn't understand until she pulled him aside before bed one night.

"Look, it's nothing alright? He's just sad is all, and it's sort of like the whole bird hatchling thing, I guess and…" Percy said, trailing off when he saw Annabeth look even more furious than before in the past few days. "Uh, you can go first."

"Thank you. Now Percy, I don't think you quite understand Damian Young or Crispin Young for that matter." Percy gave her a look that said '_and you know_'? She glared and nodded at him. "Exactly what you're thinking, I do know. I asked Will and he finally told me about their past. Everyone in the Apollo cabin's had to deal with it, but they kept it a secret…Percy, they were abused. Badly, worst than you could ever imagine," she said with all seriousness. He couldn't figure out if she was insanely jealous or sympathetic. "They say that children who are sexually abused can sometimes act…seductive. Just keep that in mind, okay?"

Percy had a feeling that she was mad at him because she didn't speak to him for days and instead kept her ideas to herself, but he didn't see the big deal because he couldn't help the fact that Damian would not leave him alone. Her warnings had come in handy when the boy did try something on him. At least, they worked well enough that he didn't shove him off the steps leading off the Mess Hall. Some point during the week after Crispin's attack Percy almost shouted in joy when Damian's brother recovered and they could be reunited. That meant him and Annabeth could get back on boyfriend-girlfriend terms again. Actually, they could get back on speaking terms, which was a huge relief.

"Alright, do I really have to come with you?" Percy said as he and Annabeth walked towards the Big House to question Crispin. He'd just gotten rid of Damian and he wasn't too eager to see him after such a short time. No one should have to deal with a depressed twelve year old pining after them as a replacement for their twin. Not that he would have said that aloud, because Annabeth might not talk to him again for another week and they really did need to solve this case together. He did feel bad for the twins but after what he'd been through, he couldn't be as compassionate as Annabeth.

"Yes, you do. Don't worry about Damian, he's back with Crispin and Will said that they'd be okay once they were with each other again." Annabeth seemed quite sure of herself and Percy hoped that she and Will were right. He gulped nervously as they entered the Big House. He saw Mr. D nearby but the god of wine didn't say anything or made any indication that he knew of their presence as always. They continued upstairs and Percy remembered so many years ago when Annabeth had tended to him after that Minotaur attack.

They entered one of the rooms and Percy wanted to duck back outside, but Annabeth grabbed his arm with a glare. She had definitely had a soft spot for them. She then coughed to brag the twins' attention and they looked innocently at us.

"We'd like to talk to you about the attack," she said. They nodded and one of them- it was probably Damian Percy guessed, since he'd spent enough time with him to know the difference, slid off his twin and lay curled beside him. They were eerily similar save for Crispin's slightly more tired appearance and Percy found it disturbing.

"Alright…can you tell us what happened?" Annabeth asked softly, as if she were dealing with a puppy instead. Percy pulled over two chairs and they sat beside the bed. Crispin had a pained expression and it was likely that he didn't want to relive the attack- Percy couldn't blame him. Damian placed a soft hand on his brother's cheek and nudged him.

"I left my lyre in the amphitheater but I forgot which seat it was…" Crispin whispered, voice as soft as his brother's. Their voices reminded Percy of Justin, only theirs carried a more solemn tone filled with an unexplainable pain of the past. Their eyes gleamed, having seen far too much in such little time. There were things about Justin that could not be explained or understood and Percy found himself thinking that they were very much alike. While these comparisons ran through his head, a few tears welled at the corners of Crispin's eyes and his twin reached over to wipe them away, muttering soft words to him.

"It's alright, tell them, they're good people," Damian said. He looked at Percy between golden locks and blue eyes. Everything about these two made him shiver.

"Y-yeah…I was leaning over a bench, where I thought my lyre was and…and…from behind me someone pulled some sheets over my head. I never saw or heard them come. They flipped me on my back and…it was so scary," he said, pausing halfway and rolling over to curl up against Damian. His voice was muted but obviously frightened and hurt. "I felt pain, it was dull at first. They didn't puncture the skin the first time. Not enough strength, I guess, because the weapon was blunt. The second time it hurt so badly I blacked out and…when I woke I was here."

"Thank you for telling us that…" Annabeth said softly. She made to rise and paused a moment before we left the room. They wanted to be alone to their pain and memories. "That was a staff that hurt you. A bronze staff with snakes curled around it."

"Did you figure out who might have done it? I've been pretty out of it this whole week…" Percy said as they were walking downstairs and out of the Big House. Annabeth nodded and they took a walk to the lake where there were less campers. When they sat she took a stick and drew a chart in the dirt. She mentioned that she would use it to explain what was happening later.

"The staff belonged to a member of the Hermes cabin. The snakes were enough proof, since they were arranged just like the caduceus. There's a bigger thing than to this all than just random campers killing each other off, though, or murderers with grudges. These grudges carry far longer than we've been alive. Our parents, the gods, have quarrels with each other as you can recall." Percy nodded bitterly and threw a pebble into the water. He was still mulling over the fact that another Hermes member was involved in something like this. "The murders and attacks have aligned themselves just like the gods hated each other.

"Shannon Ingram was the first to die, from Athena. She was stabbed brutally. Brutal is connected to Ares and bloodshed. Athena and Ares never got along though they shared warfare in mind and body. That's one for each side, Athena and Ares.

"Marcus O'Neal was second, from Hephaestus. This one was tricky because both Justin and the Stoll brothers knew about the combusting flour. I didn't want to tell you but…Justin has some family issues and he had nightmares, that's why I didn't suspect him after that. Anyways, this was staged as an accident but the flour gave it away.

"Now, the blinding of Zeru the Pegasus was an indirect attack against you, Percy. Obviously the murderers know that a child of the Big Three is not easy to kill. Instead they sent a warning and also used arrows with owls on them to confuse us. Owls are widely known to symbolize Athena, but as you pointed out horned ones symbolize Ares. They wanted people to think that Athena was behind it, because Athena and Poseidon were not on good terms. You and Ares also are not on good terms, so we can put you on the Athena side. Now, the attack was likely made from Dionysus according to Zeru and the fact that Apollo is out because of the lack of aim. Dionysus hates you in particular, so that's with Ares.

"The fourth incident, Crispin Young, might have been meant to kill or not, I'm not sure. The staff from Hermes brings that cabin back into question. Hermes saved Dionysus from Hera and he stole Apollo's cattle. I hear that they're still on weird terms about that. So Hermes with Ares and Dionysus and Apollo with us. The ones that were attacked are all on the same side so Hephaestus is with us too. That leaves Demeter and Aphrodite, which is obvious."

Percy stared in amazement at the simple chart on the ground. The names were written in Ancient Greek so they didn't have to kill themselves to read it. This was all hard to process, too much to think about. To think that they would have such malevolence… "Who do you think set this up?"

"…Well, it's us against them," Annabeth said, tracing the tables. She stared at it for a last time and erased the words with the stick. Then she said something very un-Annabeth like: "I don't know what to now, though."

Before Percy could say something a pair of screeches pierced the air and scattered the local birds into the sky. They took once glance at each other and jumped to their feet and ran off to the cabins. The possibility that it could be happening again, that they might actually catch the murderers was dashed when they came to the cabins. Instead of another murder this was only a catfight between an Aphrodite and Demeter girl, probably over a boy judging by the shouts. That was all the proof Percy and Annabeth needed to confirm their fears, though.

Two deaths and two injuries was what it took to figure the mystery out, but it was only the beginning of the nightmare. As Percy and Annabeth stood before the bonfire that night they were grimfaced and solemn, ready to tell the news. Justin Lévesque had a book in hand as he often did, in French. It was labeled _La Tragédie d' Hamlet, Prince du Danemark_. He lifted the book to the light and smiled at Annabeth and Percy. Richard was at his side.

"_Fend maintenant un coeur noble.—La bonne nuit, le prince doux, et les vols des anges vous chantent à votre repos!_" Justin said sadly. Richard smiled and translated the words. It must have been practiced, because Percy knew that Richard didn't understand French anymore than the rest of them. He didn't need the language to know that they were words of mourning. The way Justin said them flowed beautifully from his lips, complements of the language of love. Love for what or whom, he did not know.

"Now cracks a noble heart.—Good night, sweet prince, and flights of angels sing you to your rest!" Richard recited in a voice none too beautiful, but strong.

* * *

**_References/Notes:_**

• The title _Relentless Fire_ deviates from one of my favorite movies _Murder By Numbers_ on which this story is heavily based. I will mention this title often. The words "relentless fire" are used in a quote from the movie, which is used in the summary.

• The summary references to a book, _Strong Imagination: Madness, Creativity and Human Nature_ by Daniel Nettle.

• _Flights of Angels_ comes from the quote below the chapter title, from _Hamlet_. It means to reference the death of the teenagers in this story. It might also refer to the flight of innocence. I might as well say it now: I am obsessed with _Hamlet_.

• _Dawn's rosy fingers_ is a nod to the _Illiad_ and the _Odyssey_, which use those words often. It is also a nod to the _5-Minute Illiad and Other Instant Classics for the Short Attention Span_.

• Little white and purple flowers are a personal reference of a fond childhood memory of mine. The black and golden brown pot is a Greek urn. A funeral pyre/cremation was the cleanest burial method that could be sent back to Shannon Ingram's family.

• Justin Lévesque references many things. Justin was the name of one of the main characters in _Murder By Numbers_ and his character was heavily based of the one from that movie. His name in French is pronounced something like "_zhoo-STEn_" with a nasal sound on the n. I like the French and their language, though I would never take the class myself...I cannot pronounce French, thus Percy's words in the paragraph he is introduced. His surname is a nod to a few characters I created for other stories which also dealt with Greek gods. The name Lévesque comes from _bishop_ in French or from Greek _overseer_. I researched much of typical French customs and sterotypes, so some of his personality stems from that. Thus some of Justin's actions. I also share a few of his interests.

• Lucy=Chronicles of Narnia; Mark=Person in real life; Pink scarf=Aphrodite's scarf and no, that is not hers, just a reference to it.

• The vomit=French food sterotypes

• Richard Abel is also a nod to _Murder By Numbers_ and his character also derives heavily from there. (Side note: Justin pronounces Richard's name "_ree-SHAR_".) Abel=Bible reference. Richard and Justin's interactions reference _Murder By Numbers _heavily.

• Kitten-Puppy thing is true. I own them and it is very true.

• Not translating the French, but please tell me if the grammar is wrong. I don't take French and this came off a translator.

• Prosper=from the _Thief Lord_, but that doesn't mean he's anything like the character.

• Flour explosion=_Kuroshitsuji/Black Butler_, where this tequnique is used and of course, the Great Mill Disaster.

• I don't like quests and prophecies. Things in life don't come that easily.

• No relation between Shannon and Marcus=reference to _Triptych_, a murder mystery novel by Karin Slaughter.

• Zeru the Pegasus=a character from another story of mine, he's a pretty funny guy. Originally, Blackjack was supposed to come in as well but it didn't happen.

• "No visitors at all" and he had really meant it is another nod to the _5-Minute Illiad and Other Instant Classics for the Short Attention Span_.

• Crispin and Damian Young have a lot of references. They are orphans and are based off many different characters from different places. Crispin=from _Crispin: The Cross of Lead_, who was a fictional character and an orphan in England in 1377. Damian=Alias I gave to the main character from _Baroque_, who had a twin brother who died. Also the name of a character from an early fiction work of mine who was also an orphan.

• Crispin and Damian's past derives from the _Black Lagoon_ where a set of twins were assassins and became so because they were exploited by an orphanage for pedophillic purposes. This caused them to have a split personality and develop signs of incest with each other. (Crispin and Damian do not have a split personality.) In the scene where Percy and Annabeth enter their room they were kissing each other. They don't find anything remotely wrong with it. It was either Damian or Crispin who tried to cheer Percy up around the bonfire but failed.

• The attack with the staff is a reference to the old Chinese martial arts movies.

• Hermes and Apollo's cattle=a running gag in whatever story I mention them in, because to me they never did get over it.

• _La Tragédie d' Hamlet, Prince du Danemark_. Told you I loved Hamlet. This scene is important.


	2. Death to Innocence

_**Relentless Fire**_

This chapter is an interlude, so it is short, but still important. It's also set up as a drabble, which is why the format is so different.

_**Chapter 2:**__ Death to Innocence_

"_There's no tragedy in life like the death of a child. Things never get back to the way they were._" (Dwight Eisenhower)

Damian's world was an elaborate dream that played tragedies with heroes who never triumphed. Tragedies were frequent occurrences, the people within them corrupted and weak and never brave. They were all cowards who pursued their goals selfishly and disregarded anyone else who crossed their paths. The players were never genuinely compassionate in their endeavors and twisted each other about their fingers in some macabre form of a marionette act. Masks of deception were also normal occurrences and the players professionally switched roles to their likings as situation called. Loyalty was a word of heretics, trust a death sentence, love for blind fools, and justice a rumor whispered on the wind. The tiniest thread called hope resided in the abyss where few dared to venture and few came out of alive.

Damian's world never knew enough kindness to fabricate dreams that weren't nightmares, thus his perception of the world became distorted until he could no longer distinguish dreams from reality. No matter where he woke nothing tied him to one place or the other except for Crispin. Crispin was the sole aspect of his life that remained constant, that kept him sane, that reminded him life was worth living. His beloved twin was the anchor that prevented Damian from doing something terrible. It provided some part of his life worth protecting, worth choking down pain and the numb sensation of drugs for, the hope that he clung to and never released. Reality would slip through his fingers if he did so. His mind only wanted to save itself in the end, save itself from the insanity.

What other people said or thought didn't matter. They were only players that masqueraded across the stage with their own purposes in mind, who didn't understand Damian's world. They desperately tried to comprehend Damian and Crispin's suffering. Perhaps their consciousnesses believed they were compassionate if they tried to understand them. Damian did not want their pity, did not want their fake acts and fabricated words, and did not want to allow them to hurt him and his twin. The safest route was to remain as he and Crispin always had, together and alone, never letting outsiders too close for fear of betrayal. Everyone they had ever known before the camp had betrayed them in some way. In other ways, they also betrayed themselves by denying aspects of their lives that could not change, and when there was choice, they chose to remain in the dark.

After the initial murders Damian and Crispin did not have to worry much about outsiders who wanted to barge into their lives and act as if they understood their hurt when they didn't. The change at camp had been abrupt, its occupants having reached a stalemate on a checkered board. The king stood alone against the offending queen, his subjects dead, sacrificed and their usefulness expended. In spite of the hopeless situation they had tried to grasp at that thread of hope when it had long left their grasp. They were in denial of their own corruption that was slowly killing them. Damian cared little for the changes and even allowed them to pass through unnoticed for a time until he could no longer deny them either. That had happened when he and Crispin were sent on a silly quest and met the heavenly sky.

Quests were no longer filled with their former honor and glory, those who survived no more celebrated than the next. Quests became frequent occurrences to empty the camp, where demigods should have felt safe. The prospect of fighting monsters, who were so easily blamed, was readily chosen above the prospect of potentially being murdered by comrades-in-arms. After the war, such a prospect was enough to thwart the safe haven of Camp Half-Blood. It didn't matter what quest was assigned. Most were silly like the one Damian and Crispin received, to retrieve a long lost item of a parent, an item that would be disposed of later. Despite the ease of the quests, some half-bloods didn't return to camp. They were still alive, most of them, but had deserted. Murder and betrayal didn't seem worth the safety of Camp Half-Blood's borders.

Damian would have lied if he claimed that he had grown used to betrayal. He knew that no one really ever grew used to it. No matter how many times someone experienced it, a piece of them always stung anyways, even if they willed it to disappear. Damian hadn't grown used to betrayal, but accepted it as a piece of life he could not change. There were many aspects of him and his twin's lives that had always been out of their control. Some time ago they stopped trying to obtain that control and many things had hurt less afterwards. No one at camp realized that, which was why they ran away from what they feared and never returned. They weren't brave. Damian wasn't brave either, but he did accept what he could not change and left the matter at that. It might have kept him sane if the heavenly sky hadn't come across him and Crispin's singing that day.

Damian didn't remember what he and Crispin had been singing, only that it was a sad song. All he and Crispin knew how to sing were sad songs, tunes which reflected their lives. They had been singing some particularly emotional chorus when a deliberately slow clapping interrupted the song and a tall and slim figure emerged from the shadows. Instantly they knew this presence not to be a monster, but could they could not imagine why a god or goddess would bother visiting them, so Damian placed the figure's identity somewhere in between. The man, when he approached and entered the light, shone as if he were divine. His fair hair and pale eyes were similar to Damian and Crispin's only by the surface, for the twins held much more despair beneath their masks. This man held no worry in his posture or his face.

"My name is Caelestis," he introduced himself with an elegant bow. Mischievous blue eyes stared, transfixed, at the twins. Damian could not help but think his intentions were far from harmless. He didn't seem the sort of person to pass along information without an alternative motive. "Lovely voices the both of you possess, it's eerily delicate, as if you were a single person. The Muses must have gifted you two, yet so much pain lies beneath your words, your postures, and your tones, thus is the curse of the Muses, to live a burdened life….Say, how would you like the prospect of learning a new tune with ease? I will grant the both of you that much, I'm feeling generous today. I will teach you two a song that does not outright invoke sad and depressing emotions, but oh, they _are_ there, which makes it possible for you to learn it. Do you want to give it a chance?"

Damian and Crispin were reluctant in their decision. Rarely had they ever been given a decision before, whether in their early life or after they'd discovered their heritages. Decisions were usually made by those with higher positions and if they were displeasing, that decision would soon become one-sided. Certainly this person was of a high ranking by his regal nature and the superiority in his voice, even if he was trying to sound kind. Damian didn't trust kindness from any party. It was one of the important rules he had learnt very quickly when he was young. Whoever 'Caelestis' was didn't have good intentions. He would hurt Damian and Crispin, yet the sudden offer of a _choice_ was too hard to resist. Damian took a deep breath and said, "Alright, we accept. I'm Damian and this is my brother Crispin."

"A lovely choice, Damian and Crispin," Caelestis said soothingly, walking over and elegantly taking a seat before the twins. A smile was on his lips and a thoughtful peace overtook his mind. His eyes gazed at some event that had happened long ago, past the gardens in which he and the boys sat. "I was a minstrel for a good portion of my life. I've picked up many songs from many places along my way. I've heard and played many songs: romance, tragedy, war, humor, grief, happiness, and many more. I'll tell you a song of war now. I do not need any instrument and neither will you two. This song is special, it carries a tune of its own. You'll undoubtedly hear it in your heart and won't ever forget the words, I guarantee it. It's called 'The Lay of Araman'.

"_Across the sea sailed Araman,_

_A hundred men he led._

_His ship was black as death's left eye,_

_Her sails were deep blood red._

_They sailed to Simra's distant shore_

_To answer Honor's call._

_A hundred men sailed out to sea,_

_But none came home at all._

_For Honor's price is blood and steel_

_And Death will be your brother._

_A soldier's life is full of strife,_

_But I swear I'd have no other!_

_On the city walls stood King Mindar,_

_He watched the ship draw nigh._

_Five hundred men were at his back_

_And gave the battle cry._

_Then marched they to the battle plain_

_To meet the seaborne foe,_

_While Araman and his hundred men_

_Came all ashore below._

_For Honor's price is blood and steel_

_And with your life you'll buy it._

_But the ladies love a fighting man_

_And there's none that will deny it!_

_Then Araman strode on the field_

_And Mindar stepped to meet him._

'_Your lying tongue has brought us here!'_

_Cried Araman to greet him._

'_I see your force is greater,_

_You have numbers on your side,_

_But by my sword, I'll see you dead_

'_ere the turning of the tide.'_

_For Honor's price is blood and steel_

_Though flesh won't stop a sword._

_The glory of a soldier's death_

_Will be your last reward!_

_Then on the plain the armies met_

_And sword rang out on shield._

_Helms were cloven, limbs were hacked,_

_Yet neither side would yield,_

_Until the generals found themselves_

_Alone upon the plain._

_Six hundred soldiers, brave and bold,_

_Would never fight again._

_For Honor's price is blood and steel_

_And well the widows know_

_The worth of Honor to the lads_

_Now lying down below!_

_Then toe to toe and blade to blade_

_The two fierce warriors fought._

_To steal the heart's blood of his foe_

_Was each one's only thought._

_From their wounds the blood flowed down_

_To stain the trampled sward._

_And when the tide was turning_

_Mindar fell to Araman's sword._

_For Honor's price is blood and steel_

_For churl and lord as well_

_And generals often lead their men_

_Down to the gates of hell!_

_Bold Araman, the victor now,_

_Lays his blade aside._

_From his wounds his life flows out_

_Just like the sea's great tide._

_The price of Honor paid in full_

_With blood and steel and lives,_

_On an empty plain by an empty shore_

_The rightful victor dies._

_For Honor's price is blood and steel_

_So hearken well, my son._

_Honor's a damned expensive thing_

_If you're dead when the battle's won!_"

Just when Caelestis had finished the song he abruptly rose and strode off into the garden, a smile still adorning his face, and Damian thought that it appeared solemner than before. Neither Damian or Crispin made a move after him and remained watching the serene foliage rustle with the wind for a time, releasing every thought that could burden their minds. When they were slightly more prepared to face reality the twins doubted their ability to remember that song, no matter what Caelestis had said. It had been long, but when they went to recite it the words flowed easily from their lips and Crispin gave Damian an elated smile. Damian didn't quite understand why they were so happy. Maybe it was because they finally remembered a song that wasn't completely depressing.

There had been no doubt in their minds that they would return to Camp Half-Blood after the quest. If not for camp Damian and Crispin would have still been locked away in that orphanage, suffering every moment of their lives. There was nowhere for them to return, nowhere they would have liked to return to even if such a place existed. Camp Half-Blood was safer in their world, even with the new changes and horrors that had befallen the area. The camp's residents were only children and children, as Damian had come to learn, were marginally less of a threat than adults. Children weren't completely innocent, Damian knew from experience, but children did not think as adults did and were slightly more predictable. The risk was worth taking. Any other choice would end in a foster family who would understand them even less than the campers.

The lyrics to the song remained in Damian and Crispin's minds as they slowly made the trip back to Camp Half-Blood. They recited it perfectly when few were present to listen, hummed the tune when they rode a crowded bus. They didn't have the will to completely understand the words, too afraid of what they would find if they broke down the meaning. The words came from a divine entity after all, so trust was ever harder to come by than before. Damian didn't so much care to dwell on it anyways. He preferred to sing with Crispin and ignore the strange looks the other passengers gave them though they sat in the last row.

When they arrived back at camp the next day chaos was amidst again. There were a few more campers than when Damian and Crispin had left and not a single one noticed their arrival. Crispin located one of their cabin mates, who Damian thought they had seen the last of when he had announced his departure after the murders. Crispin asked what had happened, because they couldn't see anything horrible around. There was nothing there but campers scurrying about with worried mutters and rumors on their lips. There was no body, no blood, no explosion. Rather innocently, Crispin asked, "Did someone die again?"

"Y-yeah, someone died again," the Apollo boy said nervously. His voice quivered with fear and his eyes stared skeptically around him. Damian didn't blame him. There wasn't much to trust at camp anymore. "What was her name? She is-_was_-a new camper, just ten. She wasn't even claimed yet. The satyrs brought her here a few days ago with some others, they were scared and happy to be here. I think-I think her name was Gloria. Her body's at the Big House, I don't know what she looked like. I just came because I heard the news, is all. She was strangled, her fingers were chopped off, I heard…I don't suppose this is going to stop? I shouldn't have come back…"

Damian and Crispin watched the boy leave hurriedly, skittish and upset. Damian couldn't help but think that boy was a fool to have returned because of a rumor. He wasn't even going to pay respects, which served to show how selfish people were in Damian's world. Damian wasn't going to visit the girl's body though, horrific as the incident was, because he and Crispin hadn't known her. Personal matters were all that really concerned them. They were only here because Camp Half-Blood was their de facto home. No tragedy, no murder would deter them.

When the funeral pyre burned that night more faces had gathered than Damian had seen in a long time. Crying children he didn't recognize were huddled around the Hermes campers, a few old faces who swore they'd never return standing on the edges. Gloria Pace had affected them even worse than the previous deaths of Shannon and Marcus. A ten year old child who hadn't even been claimed had been murdered. Damian knew the world wasn't fair, that the world stole away innocence and replaced it with hardened emotions. The murders had made clear that they wanted to tear apart the innocence of everyone involved. Parentage and age no longer mattered. That night around the funeral pyre Damian and Crispin reluctantly sung the song Caelestis had taught them. The words remained strong and sturdy though their confidence wavered at the sight of such sadness.

Damian lay beside Crispin that night in the bed they shared, awake and wondering about the world they lived in and the foolishness of everyone around them. They were too soft, they believed in the good of the world when the bad outweighed it in every way. Damian wanted to be like them, ignorant of the horrors in the world. Murder and betrayal wasn't the worst hurt. Damian knew worst. He knew nights of hopelessness spent crying over pain and choking down painkillers. He had never wanted to cry. Crispin didn't need such a weak brother even though he said he didn't care.

Damian's world didn't understand black and white. Grey was the only color that existed, the only color that mattered. Damian had never understood innocence and he had never tried to understand it like everyone tried to understand him. Innocence was a word that only existed in his imagination, in a world beyond dreams where he and Crispin had never been in that orphanage. Though Damian would want to trade their lives for better ones if he could, he knew that given the opportunity he wouldn't actually take the offer like he had with Caelestis. He held that ignorance everyone else had in reverence, but he was afraid of it, too. He was afraid that the world would hurt him and he would never realize it. That fear was worse than his life.

Above all, Damian was afraid that he would have lost Crispin. If things had been different, would they have grown apart? He knew that what existed between them was wrong to everyone else's world. What existed to them was loyalty and love, which was for the foolish. Damian knew they would be hurt one day, hurt beyond repair. One day there would come some hurt they couldn't escape, some hurt that would take away what innocence remained. Until then, they had their songs. They had the special song they sang that night, which no one had seemed to understand. That was enough for Damian. He didn't want to ask too much of his life. If he did, he was afraid that when _that_ time came he would fall even harder than before.

In the end, they were all chess pieces on a board called life, a world where the pieces disregarded rules and the Rook became the Knight, the Knight became the Queen, and where the King became the Pawn. Who remained when all were sacrificed and gone was the King who wasn't truly the King anymore. To obtain that coveted spot, the King had throw away his life, too.

* * *

_**Notes/References:**_

• There are a ton of references to the quote by William Shakespeare: "_All the world's a stage,/And all the men and women merely players"_ from _As You Like It._

• The references to chess are a reference to _Kuroshitsuji/Black Butler_.

• I do not own 'The Lay of Araman'. It belongs to Lynn Flewelling in her book, _Luck in the Shadows._

_• _The reference to choking down painkillers is to a book _Counterfeit Son_.

• Gloria Pace is an Italian name. It means glory, peace.

Thanks for the reviews. The last chapter might take a while to write, but it wraps the mystery up and solves the case.


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